


and the wind almost took me away

by folkloricfeel



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-10
Updated: 2012-05-10
Packaged: 2017-11-19 19:22:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/576759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/folkloricfeel/pseuds/folkloricfeel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not their first date, because it's not a date, just two friends at a carnival on the last weekend of summer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and the wind almost took me away

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this picture](http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m313zioEXM1qcu7kpo6_250.jpg). AU in which Liam is adorably nervous, Zayn wears a letterman's jacket because if they're going to pretend it's 1957 then he might as well go all out, Louis and Harry have an adventure in the Tunnel of Love, Niall makes himself sick on fair food, and the boys live out every school summer carnival cliché ever. Title from "On Peak Hill" by Stars.

Zayn calls him up on Thursday night and says, "y'want to come with me to the carnival out at St. Peter's?" and Liam hesitates, bites at his fingernail, because he doesn't know what will happen if he says yes.

"With you?" he repeats, sitting up in bed.

"And Louis," Zayn clarifies, and Liam exhales, because that's good, "and I think maybe Haz is stopping by, too? Nialler claims he's boycotting on account of there might be pigeons, although I'm pretty sure he'll show up, too."

"Yeah," Liam says, "Niall can't actually resist the allure of corndogs and funnel cakes, I don't think."

"So it'll be the five of us," Zayn reiterates, and Liam nods even though Zayn can't see him. "You and me and Lou and Haz and Niall."

"Sounds good to me," Liam agrees.

"A big blowout with the gang before school starts," Zayn says.

"Perfect," Liam says.

"S'not like I'm asking you on a date or anything," Zayn says.

"Of course not," Liam confirms.

"So I'll swing by your house at five-thirty to pick you up."

"I'll be waiting."

Liam flops himself back onto his pillows, because he's absolutely not going out on a date with Zayn Malik tomorrow, except for the part where he's pretty sure he just might be going out on a date with Zayn Malik tomorrow.

*

Zayn picks him up at five-twenty-five, wearing a letterman's jacket, which is ridiculous because Zayn's the furthest thing from a sports kid you could ever get. "Thought it'd be a nice touch," Zayn shrugs, thumbing at the double digit decal on his sleeve. "If we're going to pretend it's 1957 for a night, thought I'd at least look the part."

"You look nice," Liam says, and then immediately wishes he hadn't, "I mean, you always do. Dress nice. I mean. You've got style. You're an artist, of course you do."

"Thanks," Zayn says, eyes inquiring with the tiniest bit of playfulness. "Let's get going? I told Lou we'd meet him at six, and you know how Lou gets if y'keep him waiting."

They drive out Route 45, out past the suburbs, and Liam rolls the window down and gets fascinated with the way his hand waves over the peaks and crests of the wind, in order to keep himself distracted from the way his other hand keeps brushing at Zayn's on the steering console every so often just the slightest bit.

*

A man directs them to park in the middle of a field and follows them to their spot, motioning for Zayn to roll down the window. "Two tickets," Zayn says, and Liam reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, but Zayn swats his hand away. "I got this," he says, and hands the man a ten, and Liam's pretty sure the man gives them a fleeting knowing look, even if it's completely and totally unwarranted.

*

"Liam!" Louis tackles him straight away once they're inside the gate, and Liam lands with an _oomph_ back against Zayn's chest, Zayn steadying him by the shoulders. It's as if Louis hasn't seen him all summer or something, not as if his family's been away at their lakehouse for a grand total of six days. "I missed you, Liam Payne, oh, how I missed you." He reaches up to poke Liam's cheek with his finger, and Liam's dimples only dip in more on instinct despite his best attempts to swat Louis' hand away.

"Hey, Liam," Harry says, grinning beside Louis and poking at a wisp of ice-blue cotton candy. "Zayn."

"Niall here with you guys?" Zayn asks Harry, scanning the crowd as he finally lets go of Liam's shoulders.

"Yeah, somewhere," Harry says, "we lost him back around the pulled pork and ham barbecue."

"Typicall Nialler," Liam laughs, and Zayn laughs with him, too. "Not even birds could scare him off when there's ham barbecue involved."

"Come on," Louis says, grabbing ahold of Liam's hand and dragging him toward the midway, "you are riding the Thunderbolt with me, and I don't want to hear a peep out of you, Mister Payne. No repeats of last time. And yes, you are welcome to hold my hand if you get too scared, and I will offer up my breast if you need to be held close to it for comfort."

Harry looks overly amused, and Zayn casts him an apologetic look, Liam watching the two of them over his shoulder as he's pulled away to the lures of rollercoaster hills and valleys.

*

They catch up with Niall fifteen minutes later, who looks about as green as Liam feels after his rendezvous with Louis and the Thunderbolt.

"Hey, Niall," Harry says, jogging over from the general direction of the bumper cars, Zayn in tow.

"Mmphrrrghugh," Niall mumbles, clutching his stomach from his place on the bench.

"I'll take that as a 'warning, lads, don't try the German sausage over at the fairway,'" Louis proclaims gravely, putting a hand on Niall's shoulder, who musters up the strength to smack him with surprising force.

"Mmmmffftt," he shoots back, curling himself up to lay flat out, feet outstretched over the edge of the wood slats.

"We'll leave you to your miserable gluttony, then," Zayn says, combing a hand through Niall's bangs, which Niall doesn't react quite as violently to. "Come on," he says, turning to Liam, "let's go play some games? Been working on my baseball toss skills, just for the occasion," and Liam laughs, because Zayn has the worst arm of anyone he's ever seen, especially for someone whose fingers can work magic with a pen and paper.

"Well, then, I can't wait for you to show me," Liam says, and ignores Louis' catcalls while he tempts fate by poking at Niall's stomach like their friend is his own personal sailor-mouthed, Irish-Catholic Pillsbury doughboy.

(It's probably a more accurate description of Nialler than any of them would risk saying to his face, and he tells Zayn that as soon as they're out of earshot, and Zayn's nose crinkles in laughter and their knuckles brush as they squeeze together to make it through the increasing crowd.)

*

As expected, Zayn bats an exactly zero average at baseball toss, but he finds his focus when it comes to the watergun duck races; Liam watches too closely, resting his chin on Zayn's shoulder as he braces his palms around the handles, pokes his tongue through his lips, squints his eyes in concentration just before the bell rings.

Duck number seven makes it all the way to the finish line with three seconds to spare ahead of his nearest competitor.

"What do you want?" the girl behind the counter asks, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder in a way that Liam's fairly certain is a deliberate attempt at flirtation, and he doesn't let himself feel jealous because there's no jealousy involved in wishing a pretty girl's attention on your best friend.

"How about that one?" Zayn asks, pointing to the giant Scooby-Doo dangling from the corner of the booth, and the girl bats her overly-glittered eyelashes at Zayn as she hands it to him and Liam doesn't want to get her a towel to scrub off all that eyeshadow for any other reason than she doesn't need six coats of powder blue to look pretty.

Zayn takes the stuffed animal and promptly hands it to Liam, and the girl's face falls.

"I mean," Zayn says, "figured you'd like Scooby-Doo better than me, it'll just go to my sisters if I take it home with me."

"I love it," Liam says, "I mean, thanks. Probably a good plan."

Zayn's face says he agrees.

*

They lose Harry and Louis for a while after that, and don't find them until they're being escorted toward the front gates by a rather sour-looking man in one of those orange construction vests the parking attendants always wear for reasons Liam can't quite figure out.

"Protip, boys," Louis calls to them as they pass each other, actually holding up his hand impatiently to halt his stern companion while he talks to them, "the Tunnel of Love? Is not actually quite as conducive to what it says as the label would have you believe. Apparently, getting caught with your hand down Haz's pants here is something Catholic schoolteachers frown upon, who knew?"

Harry looks like he's going to wither away into the gravel beneath them.

"Good to know," Zayn just nods, and then Louis is back to protesting furiously at the carnival worker to no avail as he's carried off toward the exit by his shirtcollar.

"Idiots," Liam grins, because who would actually come to a carnival to do something like that?

"Idiots," Zayn agrees, grinning too, then nods his head down the fairway, "want to get something to eat, yeah?"

*

They settle on kettle corn, which isn't something Liam would normally indulge in, but it's the only thing Zayn will eat that's not been fried in twelve dunks of grease, so Liam doesn't mind splurging a little if Zayn will forgo funnel cake on his behalf.

Liam finds them a bench, possibly the same one Niall was rolling in agony on earlier, which is a good sign that he's either better and wheedling beer out of some concessions man too lazy to check for IDs or puking violently in a trashcan somewhere, one or the other. Zayn sits the bag of kettle corn between them and their fingertips collide every so often as they grab at handfuls, elbows leaned back against the bench, watching the crowd and listening to the sounds of carousel oom-pah-pahs piping through the school fairgrounds in the evening air.

*

The sun's starting to set by the time they finish their kettle corn, and Niall is still nowhere to be found, and they've only got three tickets left between the two of them, so Zayn balls up the paper bag and tosses it into the trashcan next to him and asks, "want to blow these on one more ride?"

And who is Liam to say no to an offer like that?

*

Zayn gets sidetracked on the way over to the rides when they pass the man doing caricatures, because that's what Zayns do where cartoons and charcoals are involved, of course.

He signals for Liam to hold up, and Liam jogs back over beside where Zayn's propped an elbow up against the corner of the booth's wall, watching the older man scribbling and scratching at a sheet of drawing paper in attempt to form the contours and angles of a little girl's face. Zayn's eyes follow the man's fingers, the clean and long swipes of shading, the quick, jerky movements, and Liam follows, too.

"You could do that, you know," Liam comments offhandedly, and the side of Zayn's mouth twists into a smile.

"Could you, now?" the man asks, turning toward them, and his tone's more challenging than mean-spirited, if anything. "You want to give it a shot, be my guest, kid." He tears off a sheet of paper from his tablet and hands him a charcoal, and Zayn looks at it like he just got offered the last popsicle on the hottest day of July.

"Go ahead," Liam says, nudging him with his elbow, "show this guy what you're made of."

Zayn beams at him and takes the supplies, leaning up against the outer wall of the booth at just the right angle to peek around the corner in glances at the little girl. Liam watches him, watches as he slips away into a different place, where the whole world is made up of smudged ink and exaggerated eye lines and flicks of the forefinger, and he realizes he could watch Zayn do this all day, if Zayn would let him.

"There you go," Zayn says a few minutes later, holding out the page, whether to the man or the little girl, Liam's not quite sure. It's impressive, especially for the fading light, for the spontaneity of the thing; Zayn's captured the whimsy of being seven and stuffed on soft serve, all right, and Liam thinks it's even better than the man's is, and he's the one getting paid to do this.

The little girl grabs at the page, and Zayn nods, "keep it," then pulls off one of his remaining tickets to give to the artist. "Sorry for interrupting your line like that," he says, but the man shakes his head and hands him the ticket back.

"Nope, you're the one who gets this," he says, and he drops the charcoal back into Zayn's palm. "Keep that up, kid, right?" Zayn shoves the charcoal into his jeans pocket, shuffling his feet on the dirt, and Liam's never been prouder.

"C'mon, Li," Zayn says, waving a hand of thanks to the caricature man and stepping out of the booth. "Let's get in line before it gets dark."

*

They meet up with Niall one last time in the midway, staggering out with a plastic cup in hand that reeks of Coors Light.

"I love you guys," Niall slurs, draping an arm around both of their shoulders and sploshing a little bit of beer on Liam's shirt, which makes Liam make a face, because the night's starting to get chilly and now his shirt is wet.

"Love you too, Nialler," Zayn says, shooing him, and Niall gives them a salute before turning on his heels to head toward the exit, humming some indeterminate melody under his breath. "Don't drive home till you sober up, 'kay?"

Niall gives them a thumbs-up over his shoulder without even turning his head, and Liam swats at the beer stain on his shirt in an attempt to dry it.

"Here," Zayn says, slipping the jacket off his shoulders like they're some sort of cliché, which is silly, because this isn't even a date or anything, but Liam takes the jacket and slips his arms into it, anyway.

*

It's just hitting dusk when they get on the Ferris wheel.

It's just hitting dusk, and Liam's wearing Zayn's jacket like they're in some sort of high school movie, and they're trading their last few tickets to spin high, high, high above the schoolgrounds, soaring up into the steady wind and whooshing back to dip down from behind and Liam's really glad this is how they're ending the summer.

The ride starts to slow, and Zayn puts an arm over the back of the seat, thumb brushing at Liam's shoulder a little, and says, "I had a really good time tonight, yeah."

"Me too," Liam says, and their car jitters to a halt right at the top, and the Scooby-Doo Zayn won earlier is between them, and Liam reminds himself this is not a date, not a date, no matter whatever circumstantial evidence there might be to prove things otherwise. "I'm really glad you asked me. To come along, I mean."

"Glad you said yes," and Liam's looking at Zayn in the glow of the midway floodlights, and it's funny, Liam's never fancied himself with much of an artist's perspective, but Zayn's face keeps getting closer and closer and all Liam can think is how he's like a sketch shaded with more and more charcoal, the white edges of the page disappearing until Zayn's lips are barely a breath away from his.

And just then, the Ferris wheel lurches to come down one more notch of the crest and let off the next car of passengers, and instead of kissing, their foreheads collide, the bridge of Liam's nose smacking straight into Zayn's brow.

Liam cries out a little, and Zayn reaches a hand up to his face, looking apologetic and worried, which only makes Liam start to laugh, because here they are, not on a date, and instead of kissing at dusk like the end of every romcom ever, Liam reeks of beer he didn't even drink and they're injuring each other hundreds of feet in the air.

So when they lean in for a better second try, Liam thinks to himself, he's glad it's not a date, because their way is a lot better in the end, really.


End file.
